


A Blank Slate

by Abitscrewy



Series: Dragon Age Drabbles [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, Fenris In Pain, Sensitive subjects, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:26:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25541302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abitscrewy/pseuds/Abitscrewy
Summary: Fenris just after receiving the Lyrium markings that curse his life.
Series: Dragon Age Drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1850767
Kudos: 1





	A Blank Slate

The first thing he feels is blazing, white-hot pain. It crawls across his flesh, sinks down to his very bones. He opens his eyes and sees nothing but a bright blue glow. He tries to speak, to call for help, anything; But all that comes out is a hoarse groan and just more pain. He feels tears streaking down his face, but he doesn’t know why.

_Where am I? What’s happened?_   
_..._   
_Who am I?_

  
He can’t feel his body. All he knows is the agony and fear. His breaths are short and sharp. The air around him is thick and musty. He finally reaches forward, but he doesn’t make it far. There is something in front of him. Feeling around more, he finds more of the same. His body is encased in... Something.

It feels like it may be metal. He presses against it but finds no strength in himself. He tries again to make any noise but instead chokes, coughing and wheezing. He’d love nothing more than to curl up on his side, but his knees are pressed against the metal as well. There is no room. There’s hardly room for his chest to rise and fall with his strained breaths.

There is a sound of clanging metal on the outside of... Whatever this is. His eyes widen, fear overtaking him. There’s very little time for him to react, however, as his prison opens. He falls forward, barely able to catch himself on the way down. He lands on his forearms and knees but falls fully to the ground soon after.

He can’t seem to control his body. He convulses for a moment, feeling energy crackle through his skin and overtake his mind. He’s not sure how long it lasts, but when he opens his eyes there is someone there. A taller man holding a longsword, looking down on him. If the young man could, he would push himself up to see better. The light behind the man is hurting his eyes.  
Everything is hurting.

“Well, hello there...!” The voice is not his own. It comes from the man above him in a curious tone. The stranger kneels down, looking his prize up and down. “Can you speak?”

He tries. He really tries, but all he finds is what feels like nails in his throat and more tears in his eyes. He shrinks in on himself, shivering in the cold. The man hums, stroking his dark beard.

“Do you know who I am, son?”

He squints against the light, studying the man’s features. He’s older with black hair and a black beard, wearing robes he doesn’t quite recognize. There’s a sense of familiarity, but he has no idea why. He manages to shake his head.

The man lets out another fascinated hum. “Do you know who you are?”

_Do I?_

The young elf averts his gaze, trying desperately to remember. Any time he tries to go back, all he finds is the blinding pain from the metal coffin. He shakes his head again, his hands moving to grasp at his hair.

“Fascinating... Well, then,” The man stands back up. “I shall call you Fenris.”

_Fenris. Is that my name?_

“Can you stand, little Fenris?”

Fenris tries. He pushes with all his energy until he’s halfway to his forearms- and then falls again. He whimpers, curling up again.

“Hm. Get him up and to his quarters. We’ve prepared you your own room. You should feel honored, slave.”

Suddenly, Fenris was being hauled up from the ground. Somehow he pushes a scream from his chest. The fiery pain returned, like bolts of lightning from each hand that touched him. The robed man seems surprised, raising a brow. They don’t let him go, though, and the pain persists.

Once he’s lost every second of breath he has, Fenris finally quiets.

“Now that you’re finished screaming...” The man huffs. “I am Master Danarius.” He reaches forward and lifts Fenris’ head by the chin, locking their eyes. Fenris doesn’t want to look at him. He wants to shut his eyes and keep them closed. The look on Danarius’ face tells him that would be a poor decision.

“You, Fenris, are mine. A wonderful, surprisingly successful, slave. Do you understand?”

The elf slowly nods against the pull of his master’s hand. Danarius lets go and gestures for him to be taken away. Whoever it was that was holding him is not gentle. Before long, the pain became too much. He felt sick, the world felt cold. Then everything fell to the blackness.

_I am Fenris._


End file.
